whole fabric of morality would collapse, as indeed we have
it on record that it is apt to do among classes that from
one cause or another have come to live in disregard and
expectation of death.
However much we may abuse death for robbing us of our
friends—and there is no one who is not sooner or later hit
hard in this respect—yet time heals these wounds sooner than
we like to own ; if the heyday of grief does not shortly kill
outright, it passes ; and I doubt whether most men, if they
were to search their hearts, would not find that, could they
command death for some single occasion, they would be more
likely to bid him take than restore.
Moreover, death does not blight love as the accidents of
time and life do. Even the fondest grow apart if parted;
they cannot come together again, not in any closeness or
for any long time. Can death do worse than this ?
The memory of a love that has been cut short by death
remains still fragrant though enfeebled, but no recollection
of its past can keep sweet a ^ove that has dried up and withered
through accidents of time and life.